


Line

by electricblueninja



Series: Rise [3]
Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-06-07 03:04:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6782746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricblueninja/pseuds/electricblueninja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p></p><div class="center">
  <p> <img/><br/></p>
</div>
          </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
> 

Changmin helped Yunho get dressed.

 

 

This was to say, he stood close by so that Yunho could hold onto him while he stepped into his pants, and completed the action on his behalf by pulling them up for him, trying determinedly not to look at the other man’s dick as he did so.

 

 

Alas, he was uncomfortably sure that his determined effort to avoid looking at penis was conspicuous rather than subtle. He could only hope that Yunho was woozy enough not to notice or care.

 

 

When rummaging through Yunho’s dresser, he had unthinkingly picked up a shirt for him to wear. But now, seeing how uncomfortable the other man was with even the slightest movement, he realised that it was probably more of a hassle than it was worth.

 

 

He held it out and lifted his eyebrows in silent query, and, as expected, Yunho shook his head. The events of the evening were taking their toll: the shadows under his eyes seemed to have darkened substantially, and even after this small movement, he began to sway slightly.

 

 

'I'm not cold,’ he murmured, placing a tentative hand on Changmin’s shoulder to steady himself. ‘S'what blankets are for anyway.'

 

 

It was obvious that he was in desperate need of sleep. He _should_ sleep, too: Changmin had enough secondhand knowledge from medical professionals (and firsthand experience of both giving and receiving head injuries) to have learned a thing or two about concussions. One key thing that he had learned was that, contrary to popular belief, people who had suffered a blow to the head should actually _definitely_ be allowed to sleep. The problem with allowing them to do so was that they might bleed out in the brain while they were unconscious without anybody knowing, because you couldn’t tell if that was happening just from looking.

 

 

For this reason, Changmin would stay by Yunho’s side, and wake him up every now and again to make sure he didn't go and die from an internal haemorrhage. Every half hour or so was usually an appropriate interval.

 

 

He said as much, and Yunho just nodded wearily again, apathetic—perhaps not even hearing him.

 

 

He looked like he might be starting to get faint, so Changmin helped him to the bed, and, following the earlier instruction, lay down beside him.

 

 

He was glad that it was a double mattress, but even then it was a little on the small side. Not in length, but it was just…It was...

 

 

Intimate.

 

 

Once he had Yunho settled under the covers, Changmin lay out flat on his back. On  _top_ of the covers. He checked his watch, stared at the ceiling, and tried not to think about how close Yunho's body was.

 

 

Yunho fell asleep almost immediately, his breath soon steady and soft.

 

 

Trying to ignore the heat emanating from his body (the skin of his naked torso, no less), Changmin turned his mind back over the events leading up to this moment.

 

 

Changmin was pretty much the second most well-informed man in the city when it came to street operations. The _most_ well-informed man was Heechul, who handed on any information he deemed necessary or useful. Somehow, he had gotten wind of a planned attack on "the proprietor of the bar where you met Choi Siwon", further noting that "It looks like it could be nasty", and because Changmin had not been comfortable with the idea of anyone else taking a fall because of something he'd done, he'd taken himself off to Yunho’s place almost immediately.

 

 

It wasn’t that he had particularly wanted to see the other man again. Just that he could not have handled the guilt should he end up hospitalised (or worse) on his account.

 

 

Of course, it was not entirely clear who was pulling the puppet strings behind the attack. But such things were inevitably murky. An easily-identified culprit was a crappy criminal. At any rate, in light of recent events, the Choi family were the most likely suspects, which would have made it _his_ fault if Yunho got hurt, and so off he'd gone to check on things.

 

 

And arrived not a moment too soon, as it had turned out. It had to be said, though, that as far as retaliation went, for the Choi family to send someone to literally execute the proprietor of the venue where the son of the house had been injured seemed a little extreme.

 

 

On the other hand, thugs and politicians could be like that. It wasn’t like it would have been the first time a politician had overreacted to something.

 

 

Anyway, he was glad he'd gotten there in time, but now, he was conflicted about how things had ended up.

 

 

He wasn’t really sure he should be here. On the one hand, Yunho needed someone to watch over him, but on the other, Changmin was not sure that it was _right_ for _him_ to be the one at his side.

 

 

After all, whoever the attackers had been, after Changmin’s intervention, he was pretty confident that they wouldn't be coming back. At least not _today_. If they'd been aiming to kill, which seemed to be the case...well, they wouldn't have much luck now, even if they _did_ know where Yunho lived and lay in wait. Changmin had done his job: he had prevented the mess had Heechul had warned him about. But that had been the extent of his instructions. Nothing had required him to chaperone Yunho back to his flat, or into his shower, or into his bed.

 

 

No...no, he had had no choice. It was the responsible thing to do. The  _right_ thing. _Someone_ still had to watch over Yunho for the next forty-eight hours or so, right? And how could he know who to call?

 

 

_I was there. It makes sense for me to stay._

 

 

It was what he continued to tell himself, because the rational part of his mind could only accept that part of the truth.

 

 

 _After all,_ _you_ _do_ _hear about_ _it sometimes—people_ _bleeding into their brains after head trauma._

 

 

And Changmin didn't need that kind of bad karma.

 

 

Besides, Yunho needed medical attention, and he seemed to be reluctant to get it.

 

 

Which was a little weird, actually, but maybe just macho, or some kind of past trauma with doctors, or something? Anyway, Changmin wasn’t one to judge.

 

 

He woke Yunho, gently and punctually, until about 9 o’clock in the morning, at which point it was definitely time to check in with his boss about the events of the preceding evening.

 

 

He slipped off of the bed and moved across to the kitchen of the small studio to make the call.

 

 

Heechul picked up on the second ring, his tone expectant.

 

 

‘Well?’

 

 

‘You were right, hyungnim,’ Changmin said softly. ‘Four of them.’

 

 

‘Uh-huh.’ Heechul. ‘Butcher, baker, candlestick maker?’

 

 

‘Butcher, actually.’

 

 

‘From the house of fun, or…?’

 

 

In other words, _Were they Choi thugs?_

 

 

‘I only got a good luck at one of them. Couldn’t tell. Didn’t recognise him. Not a local butcher.’

 

 

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone. Then, ‘I see. And what about the bar guy?’

 

 

‘I was barely in time. He’s alive, but…could use a doctor. Doesn’t seem to want one though.’

 

 

‘So you’re playing nurse?’ said Heechul, his smirk almost audible as he heaped the greasy sexual innuendo through the phone.

 

 

Changmin was mortified to find himself blushing.

 

 

Thankfully, _Heechul_ couldn’t know that, and continued, airily, ‘You’d be a shit nurse, Shim. You can offer Dr Kim, if you think he needs treatment.’

 

 

‘Yeah…yeah, I will.’

 

 

‘Something else on your mind, Shim?’

 

 

Changmin hesitated, glancing back over his shoulder at Yunho, sleeping. ‘I don’t know, hyungnim. It seemed a little extreme.’

 

 

Heechul made a noncommittal noise. ‘Choi’s a big shot, Shim. They’re like that. But this barman guy—what’s his name?’

 

 

‘I only got a first name—Yunho.’

 

 

‘Sure. Well...it wasn’t a local butcher, you say?’

 

 

‘I don’t think so.’

 

 

‘Sure.' There was a short silence as Heechul digested this information. Then: 'You might as well stay on him for now, Shim.'

 

 

'Sir?'

 

 

'Just keep an eye on him, get him to a doctor, and I'll give it some further thought.'

 

 

'Yes, sir.'

 

 

'I might have something new for you to do soon, Shim—there’s some new faces in town. But no rush. I’m not sure what their business is yet. They’re keeping to themselves so far, anyway. So you might as well stay on our guy until that develops. And let me know when you're off to the doctor and I'll see if I can come by.'

 

 

'Yes, sir.'

 

 

'Later, Shim.'


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
> 

There were many ways to describe Kim Heechul.

 

 

A range of them were not particularly polite, but whenever he got wind of this type of description, he would arrange for the persons who had used them to be introduced to his enforcer.

 

 

Not universally, mind you: the sentiment _behind_ such descriptions was fairly important. Ratbag kids, for instance, mouthing off: they were nothing. Only in very exceptional cases was there any need to punish them for talking smack. Talking smack was just something that they did. It was a matter of course. Nobody cared what they said, so it didn’t matter. They’d grow out of it, so as long as they showed appropriate fear in his presence, Heechul could care less.

 

 

In fact, sometimes they were accidentally helpful, because it was actually useful to be underestimated.

 

 

A politer way to describe Heechul was “strategic”. This referred to the fact that he tended to let people do what they liked—up until it controverted his own ethics, methods, or business. At _that_ point the perpetrator would need to be subjected to corrective measures. Otherwise, he didn’t care.

 

 

Anyway, overall, it was converting and subduing the skeptics and the ratbags that bred true zealotry, _true_ fear, and this, in turn, was useful.

 

 

Most of the other ways that Heechul was described were deferential, if not entirely complimentary. This was fitting, in his view. He was not, strictly speaking, a _good_ person, but nor would he pretend to be.

 

 

‘Clever’ and ‘resourceful’ were two of the politer words that often got mentioned, and to Heechul’s mind, they were not very accurate. He was not arrogant enough to believe that he was cleverer or more resourceful than the next jack.

 

 

What he _did_ have, though, more than most, was interpersonal skills. And, as a direct consequence, he also had a knack for obtaining and managing information: good at cultivating connections, he had developed a strong network that could support his enterprise. He had also invested a great deal of time and energy into improving his ability to identify and utilise information in an effective and timely manner. So, through the former, he was able to learn about other enterprises and key players in the underworld, and through the latter that he could work out whether other parties would complement or obstruct his own interests.

 

 

As a result, he was usually able to work out some kind of arrangement with new players when they came into the Jeolla-nam region.

 

 

At the moment, though, this new, faceless group was annoying him.

 

 

He had a vague idea of who they were—or at least, a good idea of who he thought they might be.

 

 

Police, he thought, or military, because the signs were unmistakeable.

 

 

Basically, they were _too_ discreet. _T_ _oo_ faceless to be petty criminals. _Too_ organised. And he wasn’t sure he was happy about their arrival, because if his sources were right, they were a part of the weapons black market. And the weaponry on the black market came from the police, or the military proper, or a combination of the two. And that made things messy.

 

 

Heechul liked criminals who knew and accepted that they were criminals.

 

 

He was much less fond of the criminals who crossed lines and blurred boundaries. That shit was just…not cricket.

 

 

For example, that story on the grapevine from a while ago, in a neighbouring city, when there had been that whole fiasco between the military and the police because someone from one side had discovered someone on the other side was shady, and felt the need to try and _fix_ it by reporting the one to the other.

 

 

Whoever that person had been, according to what Heechul had heard, it had not ended well. In fact, what he had heard indicated that it had ended in a colourful incident on a boat out of Mokpo, and he could only imagine that the whistleblower had ended up with a nice pair of concrete shoes.

 

 

None of his business, of course, but more to the point, he didn’t _want_ it to be his business, and he certainly didn’t want any of that to interfere with _his_ business. It was not in anybody’s interests for the military or the police to be in town, much less _crooked_ cops or military.  

 

 

Now this, of course, was tangentially related to Changmin.

 

 

But Changmin was _ex_ -military.

 

 

That was different.  
 

 

Like Heechul, Changmin was no saint, but, importantly, like Heechul, he was not beleaguered by it. He knew what he was good at, and he committed to the cause. But he also had his own moral compass and his own scruples, and Heechul trusted that in a way he did not—could not—trust blind or sycophantic obedience.

 

 

Changmin was everything he had hoped for. He was a model employee. He did not fuck around, but he did not ask too many questions. At the same time, he was capable of offering his opinions in a way that was measured and appropriate.

 

 

For instance, when Heechul had explained what he did, there had been no debating the merits of the enterprise. Heechul had been explicit and uncompromising when he outlined the job, and Changmin had stayed neutral, trusting Heechul’s assertion that he did all within his power to protect his workers. Since becoming Heechul's enforcer, he had also been unflinching and dependable in getting things done. They had what you might call an _understanding_. Their relationship was one of professional and personal trust, and their roles were clearly delineated. Heechul would ask Changmin to do something. Changmin respected Heechul, and Changmin would see that it got done.

 

 

That said, it was important to both of them that only the _right_ people got hurt. Violence was central to what they did, but it was careful violence. Targeted violence. The type of violence that was only directed towards people who could not rightly be considered victims of anything other than their own stupidity and a lack of decorum.

 

 

Heechul gave his orders, and did not ask too many questions about Changmin’s side of things. But he did make sure Changmin briefed him on the particulars of his enforcement missions, such as the where and when of each event, because it was crucial that he remain aware of where his business cards ended up. Not that he could personally be identified by them by anyone who wasn’t already familiar with his enterprise, but knowledge was power, and you could never be too careful.

 

 

Which was exactly why he handed on the info about the attack that seemed to be planned for the guy who owned the bar where Choi Siwon had had his little ‘accident’, and good thing, too, because it had gone and turned out serious.

 

 

He hung up the phone to Changmin, and sat back to think things over.

 

  

“Yunho”, Changmin had said?

 

 

Kind of a familiar name, somehow, maybe.

 

 

Then again, Heechul came across hundreds of names, every year. The fact that he _thought_ it seemed familiar probably didn't mean anything. 

 

 

No harm in meeting the guy, anyway, or at least having Changmin keep an eye on him for now. Wouldn't do anyone any good if the Choi family did manage to have him killed.

 

 

But for now, with Changmin to stop _that_ from happening, back to the business of the faceless shadows moving in on his turf.


	3. Chapter 3

Heechul wasn't sure what he'd been expecting the bartender to look like.

 

 

Definitely not like someone off of the cover of a bad romance novel though.

 

 

He was quite extraordinary looking, really; larger than life, yet still quite soft; the sharpness and angularity of his features offset by a long mane of tousled hair that rivalled the length that Heechul's had once been.

 

 

And it did not escape Heechul's notice that Changmin had also noticed that this "Yunho" was striking. It probably wouldn't have been obvious to a casual onlooker: Heechul had trained himself relentlessly in the art of observation, and it was years and years of practice, as well as being reasonably familiar with Changmin, that allowed him small insight into the subtle and strange dynamic emerging between the enforcer and the bartender.

 

 

Heechul cast his eyes between the two of them as they entered Dr Kim's office, and tilted his chin in greeting.

 

 

'Good morning,' he said. 'Thank you for coming. Yunho, is that right?'

 

 

The shaggy head bowed slightly in response, and Heechul held out a hand.

 

 

The large man accepted the gesture. His grip was firm and sure, though his eyes were cautious.

 

 

'I'm Kim Heechul.'

 

 

'I figured,' came the steady response, with a hint of the local dialect in it.

 

 

Changmin had stayed where he was when Yunho had stepped forward to greet Heechul, but, Heechul noticed, he seemed to be doing his guard dog thing, extending a certain amount of his attention towards Yunho, though his eyes remained downcast.

 

 

Interesting.

 

 

'I'm very sorry about the incident last night, Yunho-ssi,' Heechul continued. 'It really is most unfortunate that this happened to you. And it seems probable that it might have been in connection with some of my business, so I do hope you'll accept my apologies, and the care of my physician, Dr Kim.'

 

 

Yunho’s gaze wavered perceptibly; he looked down, suddenly awkward.

 

 

(Heechul felt Changmin’s gaze flick in his direction, as though to say _See? Weird._ )

 

 

'I appreciate the gesture. It's really not necessary, but—'

 

 

'But I insisted,' Changmin interjected, and Heechul had to make a conscious effort to manage his facial expression.

 

 

Curiouser and curiouser.

 

 

'As you should,' he said, to Changmin. To Yunho, he added, 'I'm sorry to press the issue. I imagine it's not every day you get attacked trying to go home from work, and I hope you understand that I do want to find out who is responsible. We have no intention of simply allowing you or your business to become collateral damage.'

 

 

He watched Yunho closely as he spoke.

 

 

'But the thing is, unfortunately, the opportunity to respond is limited until we can confirm the identity of the attackers. We could hand the information on to the police. As well or instead of taking our own measures. Whatever you prefer. But I'd be grateful for anything you can tell me about them.

 

 

'Did you get a chance to take a look at them?'

 

 

'Just one.'

 

 

'Was he familiar at all?'

 

 

Yunho made to take something out of his jacket, but the movement was interrupted by a pained hiss. Heechul had seen that he wore his jacket over the shoulders, and had assumed an injury: now he knew it was the left side.

 

 

Yunho made to use his right hand instead, but Changmin was quicker, stepping forward milliseconds after Yunho’s sharp inhalation and taking over.

 

 

Yunho looked embarrassed but acceded, mumbling 'Left pocket.'

 

 

Heechul had no problem admitting his voyeurism as Changmin reached into Yunho's pocket and took out his phone, holding it back to Yunho.

 

 

'Just find the photo,' Yunho muttered awkwardly, adding, for Heechul's benefit, 'My arm’s a bit…broken.'

 

 

Heechul nodded and pushed down the corners of an impending smirk at the sight of two enormous men struggling with this inexplicable homoerotic tension. It was weird and a little unexpected, but highly entertaining.

 

 

Maybe his joke about Changmin playing nurse had been more accurate than he knew.

 

 

Changmin held out the phone screen so Yunho could unlock it, flicked through it till they found what they were after, and passed it to Heechul.

 

 

Heechul cast a glance at the unconscious face, but it was no one that he knew. But...

 

 

No, never mind. Much too soon to assume.

 

 

Dr Kim, with impeccable timing, stepped out of his office at this point, greeting them all with a slight bow and a polite smile. He knew in an instant who the patient must be, of course.

 

 

Heechul took one last glance at the face on the screen before returning the phone to Yunho, although it was Changmin who took it, silently, causing Heechul to narrow his eyes suspiciously at the tall young man's stiff, brooding features.

 

 

Changmin returned his gaze, awkwardly and so impassively that the impassivity had to be on purpose.

 

 

Yes, there was definitely something going on here. On a number of levels.

 

 

He turned back to the physician with a warm smile and a clasp of his elegant outstretched hand. _Ryeowook-ah. Thanks for this. Our friend with the hair here had an incident last night. If you can check him over and patch him up I'd be much obliged._

 

Ryeowook, as eternal, asked no questions: just nodded, and smiled his ethereal smile.

 

 

 _No problem_ , he signed back.

 

 

‘Dr Kim can’t talk,’ said Changmin to Yunho. ‘I'll go in with you so I can tell you what he says.’ He signed the same message to the doctor, though not as deftly as Heechul was able to.

 

 

Actually, Heechul was quietly impressed by how quickly Changmin had been able to learn sign language: he was a smart man.

 

 

There was also that small business where there was literally nothing to stop Ryeowook from _writing_ messages to Yunho, but, well, if Changmin wanted to guard his charge so closely, Heechul would not interfere.

 

 

As much as he would have liked to go in with them, and watch whatever further awkwardness was about to unfold, his phone was beginning to buzz in his pocket, and the message that he got when he picked it up sounded faintly relevant to the current situation.

 

 

In short, he interpreted the update he was given to mean that they should not leave Yunho alone any time soon.

 

 

And it was information that meant he would have to go and do some digging. So he would have to take it as his cue to leave.

 

 

Ryeowook looked to Heechul for confirmation, and Heechul signed, _Take him in_.

 

 

'Go on ahead, Yunho-ssi,' he added, and to Changmin, 'A parting word, Shim?'

 

 

'Sir?'

 

 

Heechul really wished he'd stop with the "sir" business. You could take the man out of the military, but the military habits, at least in Changmin's case, stubbornly stayed in the man.

 

 

Yunho was passing into the physician's office, but Heechul kept his voice low regardless. You could never be too careful. 'I think you'd better stay with him for a little while.'

 

 

Changmin's brow wrinkled a bit. Sometimes he reminded Heechul of a Doberman. Other times, like now, he looked a little more like a Shar Pei. 'They're going to try again, are they?'

 

 

'Bearing in mind we still don't know who "they" are, yes, it seems that way.' He didn't point out to Changmin that Yunho had also not _actually_ responded to his question, about whether he'd recognised his attacker, because after all, he hadn't hired Changmin to be an auxiliary brain. Changmin was clever, which was good, but he was not  _too_ clever, which was also good. Maybe he had noticed, but whether he had or not didn't really matter. For now, it was just another piece of a puzzle Heechul was putting together in his head, and he didn't want to say anything too soon. He would decide what to do with it later. 'Also, if his arm is broken, and he's a bartender, he's going to need someone to do the lifting for him.'

 

 

Still frowning, Changmin nodded. 'Should he really go back there at all, if...?'

 

 

'To his bar? It's up to you, Shim, I trust your judgement. Just keep him alive for now. And keep your phone charged. I'll be in touch.'


	4. Chapter 4

Dr Kim had been quick and efficient in his assessment of Yunho’s injury.

 

 

Changmin joined them in the small surgery to find the examination already underway. Realistically, he probably didn't need to be present: the fact that both doctor and patient ignored his entrance was evidence of that. After all, while Dr Kim's hands were busy, he couldn't sign, and there was therefore nothing for Changmin to verbalise.

 

 

In an attempt to seem less awkward, he leaned against the wall by the door.

 

 

After a little poking and prodding, Dr Kim turned in his direction.

 

 

 _It's not bad,_ he signed, _though it's still a good idea to give him a _____._

 

 

That was not a sign Changmin knew. _A what?_

 

 

Dr Kim smiled gently and spelled it out for him. _C-a-s-t._

 

 

_Thanks._

 

 

'What's the prognosis?' Yunho asked, watching them curiously.

 

 

'He says it's probably best to cast it, but it's not a bad break. And probably don't go back to work in a hurry.' 

 

 

Yunho shrugged and nodded. 'Okay. Let's do it. Then just...take me home, I guess.'

 

 

 

 

 

 

Murphy's law being what it was, it turned out that taking Yunho home, as per his request, was going to be impossible. They saw it from streets away, and closer up, the plume of thick black smoke rising into the air was a bad omen of a worse reality.

 

 

Yunho’s apartment was the rooftop apartment of his building, and as soon as they drew close enough, it became clear that that was the source of the dark column reaching into the sky.

 

 

There was nowhere for him to go home to.

 

 

Changmin got out of the car at the police line. Firemen and cops were assembled in droves, and evacuees of the building stood in small crowds, hushed and horrified.

 

 

Changmin hear Yunho open the passenger door and follow him out of the car.

 

 

Vaguely, somewhere off to the side, he heard the other man’s grim voice asking a bystander if anybody had been hurt. (‘Looks like almost no casualties, by some miracle. Only…someone went up to the roof for a smoke, and the top floor was already...yeah. They don’t know about whoever lives there yet. Everyone else got out okay…’)

 

 

He stopped listening, though. He was scanning the crowd, and something unexpected suddenly seized all of his attention.

 

 

It was only a glimpse, but there, in the amassed, uniformed officials, for just a fraction of a second, he caught sight of a face he knew, because he had made a very specific effort to memorise it when he had first encountered it—last night, on the cement, under a streetlamp.

 

 

It was one of Yunho’s attackers.

 

 

But Changmin’s eyes had slipped onwards through the milling faces before he had really realised who he was looking at, and the face vanished in an instant, evaporating like a mist. Staring blankly at the space where he thought the face had been, Changmin wondered if he had even see him at all, or if the light and the smoke and the general confusion were playing tricks on his mind.

 

 

After another quick survey of the crowd failed to bear fruit, he retreated to the car, getting back in the driver’s seat to wait patiently until Yunho rejoined him, quiet and awkward.

 

 

‘Not going to talk to the police?’

 

 

He wasn’t quite sure why he bothered asking.

 

 

He already knew what the answer would be. As expected, Yunho shook his head. All things considered, Changmin could understand why he might not want to report his survival.

 

 

After a silence, Changmin heard himself making an offer he had not intended or expected to make.

 

 

‘You'd better stay with me.’

 

 

In fact, to describe it as an ‘offer’ might have been a little inaccurate. It came out more like an instruction.

 

 

The gaze Yunho shot him was sharp and surprised. ‘What?’

 

 

Grasping wildly for a suitable explanation, Changmin gestured to Yunho’s cast-bound arm. ‘You can’t be on your own yet.’

 

 

The shock had not yet fallen from Yunho’s features. He shook his head, the sunlight blazing down through the smoke rippling in his hair.

 

 

‘The bar…’

 

 

‘I don’t think it would be a good idea to go there, Yunho-ssi. I think I just saw one of your friends.’

 

 

Yunho’s expression tightened slightly: complex. Hard to read.

 

 

‘I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Changmin…’

 

 

He trailed off, a small frown forming between his eyebrows. His lips turned down at the corners.

 

 

‘But?’ Changmin demanded, too quickly, his impatience a shield for his embarrassment.

 

 

‘You can’t guard me forever. I have a life to live. You're not a part of that.’

 

 

‘Someone is trying to kill you, Yunho. And this— _this_ —’ he paused, and gave the black cloud a pointed look, ‘looks more serious than I thought it was.’

 

 

‘I can take care of myself, Changmin—’

 

 

A retort was on the tip of Changmin’s tongue— _you’d be dead if it wasn’t for me_ —but he choked it back.

 

 

It made him sound like a jealous husba—no, more to the point, Yunho would never have been targeted in the first place, if it wasn’t for him. Sure, Changmin could not protect Yunho indefinitely. But still…arson? And anyway, Heechul had told him to stay on him, so stay he must.

 

 

But the personal undercurrent certainly wasn’t improving the situation. Changmin supposed they would have to address it sooner or later, so he forced himself to grow a pair and raise the elephant in the room.

 

 

‘If it’s because of the other night…’

 

 

Yunho cut him off with a shake of the head and a raised eyebrow. ‘Nothing to do with it. Don’t worry. It was only one night.’

 

 

Changmin looked down at the steering wheel, embarrassed and, more confusingly still, slightly disappointed by the blasé reply. ‘Sure,’ he said, ‘Great.’

 

 

He steeled himself a moment, before adding: ‘I’m sorry about the way I left.’

 

 

Yunho shrugged.

 

 

Was he really so indifferent? Was Changmin nothing more to Yunho than a harbinger of danger and destruction?

 

 

Why should he be anything more?

 

 

Why did the thought made his chest hurt?

 

 

No—it was just the smoke from outside. The burning smell of Yunho’s ruined home.

 

 

Ignoring the strange discomfort in his chest, Changmin looked back across at Yunho’s small face, surrounded by the untidy mane of hair. ‘I didn’t mean to bring all this down on you.’

 

 

‘I don’t blame you, Changmin.’

 

 

Changmin felt his brow furrow, and returned his gaze to his hands on the steering wheel. This was a weird situation, and it was time to end the discussion. ‘You still need to come to a safe-house.’

 

 

After a long silence, Yunho inclined his head—Changmin saw in his peripheral vision.

 

 

‘Okay, then. Just for tonight. Thank you.’


End file.
